Jerusalem : Compass of the Diaspora Jew

Somehow we always know how to seek Jerusalem, whether it's by Babylon's rivers or the Hudson.

We're standing in downtown Manhattan, overlooking Liberty Harbor. The woman standing next to me points to the view: "Doesn't it almost look like Jerusalem? That terrace over there and that tree? The way the sun is setting?"

I gaze for a minute at the view. We stand overlooking a dark Hudson River, a boat passing by, the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

No, it doesn't look like Jerusalem in the least. This is most certainly New York. I muster a smile, trying to think of an agreeable response until I finally sigh and admit, "No, it doesn't look like Jerusalem. Not at all."

She's not happy with my answer. She's fresh off a spring break Birthright trip and probably still seeking Jerusalem.

I've learned to nod politely in these moments. I understand her. It's like stepping off a plane in JFK, catching a waft of spices and still smelling Jerusalem.

Somehow we always know how to seek Jerusalem, wherever we are: whether it's by Babylon's rivers or the Hudson. It's some kind of inner compass which directs us there – not just for times of prayer, but in everything, on our living room walls and our silk paintings, in our wedding invitation calligraphy, our whispered consolations to mourners.

Even in the Soviet Union. My mother tells me about her childhood in the far north of Russia, the wait for exit visas in the '70s. She tells me of dark winter nights, secret copies of Exodus, gatherings with fellow Traitors of the State and political activists. Jerusalem: it was the magical formula whispered between activists.

"Soon, we'll be sipping coffee together in a Jerusalem café," Mark Morozov, one of the activists, said upon farewell, as my mother's family gathered to emigrate. A Jerusalem café – what does a Moscow Jew know about a café in the Middle East?

The idea of Jerusalem is ingrained in the subconscious of the Diaspora Jew, arguably a different image than the one preserved by the Israeli. A place, yes, but also a reality, an ideal to constantly face and strive towards. It's become the perfect metaphor for all of Israel, and even for Jewish identity itself: a complicated place of winding streets, hills and valleys, divided, beautiful and tense. A fusion of east and west, ancient and modern, "always of two." As Yehuda Amichai notes in his poetry: It is at once an object of fantasy and also entirely mundane.

And often, it is the ordinary which penetrates the Diaspora Jew. It's not just praying by the Western Wall or wandering the Old City, but it's also about that bus ride you take and the kind old man who blesses you and hands you a bag of fresh lychees. Is it naive, perhaps, that I melt a little, every time I walk by children playing in the city's streets? That I can spend months in that place, and still shake my head in disbelief over the miracles that took place there? Is it possible to yearn for the place in which one already stands?

Some Israelis laugh when they watch us grow misty-eyed: "You're impassioned with this place, aren't you?" They tolerate it, wonder at our shameless romanticism, smile at our naiveté.

But I've come to be proud of my naiveté. It's that same idealism of standing by the Hudson and seeing Jerusalem somewhere in the distance, the same fervor of the early pioneers and their ruthless conviction, the same whispered Soviet conversations.

Soon, we'll be sipping coffee together in a Jerusalem café. That activist, who had promised to meet my family in Jerusalem, died in a Soviet prison seven years afterwards. My mother's family settled in Brooklyn. But the stories of those wintry nights, of waiting for an exit visa, remain strong. We're still seeking, straining, to see Jerusalem from afar.

This Jerusalem Day I am reaffirming my conviction to return, if for no other reason than to sit in that Jerusalem café, for the sake of those who couldn't.

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 7

(7)
Bernard Roth,
May 22, 2012 6:43 PM

You have expressed my sentiments exactly. There truly is no other place like Yerushalayim anywhere else. Except perhaps Gan Eden.

(6)
Ken Herman,
May 20, 2012 9:28 PM

Deep down

On my first visit to Jerusalem in 1978 I a secular Jew repeated the old pledge at the wall. "may my right hand lose its cunning before I forget thee o Jerusalem" a spontaneous and instinctive action.

(5)
Adam G,
May 20, 2012 8:12 PM

Stop fanticizing and strive for reality

I read this while in Jerusalem on Yom Yerushalyim. No! Jerusalem isn't everywhere and Israel isn't a state of mind. It's real and waiting as the inheritance of the Jewish people. For too long in our history we pinned over the unattainable Jerusalem. Such pinning today is wasted. Hashem heard our prayers and delivered Israel to us. The time for pinning is over and the time for living and building is here. Don't spend water on tears, convert it into sweat of real labour.

(4)
SusanE,
May 20, 2012 6:37 PM

I Can Attest to That

Thank you for the article today. I'm from a small working class town that was populated by immigrants. I too had a longing to be in the places of my ancestors. After I went to Europe, in the rural parts of Germany and Italy and France, I can see here in America 150 years later, the ways in which my family had kept close to their ancestors ways. Most of this generation have never been to the countries of their ancestors but still have that culture and lifestyle especially the Italian, Irish and German families. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Many Jews settled in New York, and I imagine they brought much of their culture and lifestyle with them. I can understand why it would seem familiar to that woman standing beside you in Manhattan. ~~~~~~~~ Where we come from doesn't change and our surroundings reflect that.

(3)
ruth housman,
May 20, 2012 4:26 PM

coming to the WALL

I believe all roads, in deep ways, lead to Jerusalem, City of Gold, City of God, and our stories tell us of this deep and constant yearning. But in such perception, I also see a deep Unity of all life, meaning wherever I am, it could be said, I am in Jerusalem. And so my words reverberate what is written about New York by the writer's friend in this article. Yes, I do see it. And I do see all our desert years, as surely we all have them, as a walk through the Exodus story, and the deep and ongoing mirroring that does define all our lives, through such metaphoric and true connectivity can be perceived as beautiful, as opposites do all fold togehter, as the word cleave itself involves a cutting and also a strong glue, that binds. Life is so bipolar and words do reflect this totally.
For those who do not get to Israel, who do not get to the Wailing Wall to pray, to wail against injustice of all kinds, it could be said, they do get to Israel and to Jerusalem, because it could also be said, Israel is a "state' of mind.

(2)
Ben Fisher,
May 20, 2012 4:02 PM

Still remember the very first time my wife and I set foot in Jerusalem. Jerusalem is always in the heart and mind.Jerusalem is a dream realized.
Am Yisrael Chai !!

My Christian friends are always speaking about “faith.” To me this sounds a lot like blind faith. Is that really the essence of religion?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

I'm afraid that this is another case of a Christian concept being mis-associated with Judaism.

Let's first define our terms. What is faith?

Webster defines faith as "Belief without proof."

What is knowledge? "An acquaintance with truth, facts or principles through study or investigation."

Faith is usually a product of desire. Have you ever gotten a tip on the market that guarantees you're going to triple your money in a month? A lot of smart people have gotten fleeced because they ignored the evidence and went with their feelings.

Knowledge, on the other hand, is based on evidence. We know there's a place called China because we have too many products in our house saying "made in China." There's a lot of evidence for the existence of China, even though most of us have never been there.

Judaism unequivocally comes down on the side of knowledge, not faith. In Deuteronomy 4:39, the Torah says: "You shall know this day, and understand it well in your heart, that the Almighty is God; in the heaven above and the earth below, there is none other." (This verse is also contained in the prayer, "Aleynu.")

This verse tells us that it is not enough to simply know in your head, intellectually, that God is the Controller of everything. You must know it in your heart! This knowledge is much more profound than an intellectual knowledge. God gave us a brain because he wants us to think rationally about the world, our role in it, and our relationship with God.

A conviction based on desire or feelings alone has no place in Judaism. The Hebrew word "emunah," which is often translated as faith, does not describe a conviction based on feelings or desire. It describes a conviction that is based on evidence.

Once this knowledge is internalized, it effects how a person lives. A person with this knowledge could transform every breathing moment into a mitzvah, for he would do everything for the sake of the heaven. But this is not a "knowledge," that comes easily. Only intensive Torah learning and doing mitzvahs can achieve this knowledge. Every word of Torah we learn moves us just a little bit closer to that goal. And everyone is capable of that.

To learn more, read "The Knowing Heart," by Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (Feldheim.com). This entire book is an explanation of this verse!

In 350 BCE, the building of the second Holy Temple was completed in Jerusalem, as recorded in the biblical Book of Ezra (6:15). The re-building of the Temple had begun under Cyrus when the Persians first took over the Babylonian empire. The re-building was then interrupted for 18 years, and resumed with the blessing of Darius II, the Persian king whom is said to be the son of Esther. The Second Temple lacked much of the glory of the First Temple: There was no Ark of the Covenant, and the daily miracles and prophets were no longer part of the scenery. The Second Temple would stand for 420 years, before being destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE.

You shall know this day and consider it within your heart(Deuteronomy 4:39).

Business people who are involved in many transactions employ accountants to analyze their operations and to determine whether or not they are profitable. They may also seek the help of experts to determine which products are making money and which are losing. Such studies allow them to maximize their profits and minimize their losses. Without such data, they might be doing a great deal of business, but discover at the end of the year that their expenditures exceeded their earnings.

Sensible people give at least as much thought to the quality and achievement of their lives as they do to their businesses. Each asks himself, "Where am I going with my life? What am I doing that is of value? In what ways am I gaining and improving? And which practices should I increase, and which should I eliminate?"

Few people make such reckonings. Many of those that do, do so on their own, without consulting an expert's opinion. These same people would not think of being their own business analysts and accountants, and they readily pay large sums of money to engage highly qualified experts in these fields.

Jewish ethical works urge us to regularly undergo cheshbon hanefesh, a personal accounting. We would be foolish to approach this accounting of our very lives with any less seriousness than we do our business affairs. We should seek out the "spiritual C.P.A.s," those who have expertise in spiritual guidance, to help us in our analyses.

Today I shall...

look for competent guidance in doing a personal moral inventory and in planning my future.

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